


Caterpillar

by ink_stain



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Rathbone films)
Genre: Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 11:56:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16994550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ink_stain/pseuds/ink_stain
Summary: My bedroom is adjoining to that of Holmes.It is therefor quite often, that I wake up to Holmes crying out in his nightmares.There is something different this time.





	Caterpillar

**Caterpillar**

_by_ ink_stain

 

There is a corridor. It is long, very long but narrow and dark. The rough stone walls are lined with heavy wooden doors. The air is damp and cold. Almost no sound is to be heard, but the faint rushing of water, as if from far away.  
There is a man. He is hurrying along the corridor, stopping in front of every door, just long enough that he may open it to look inside.  
''Watson!''  
Behind him, a wake of opened doors.  
''Watson?''  
His cries echo to and fro between the walls, unheard. The rushing sound grows steadily louder and louder.  
''Watson! Were are you?''  
The sound is very loud now and very near, stopping the man, mid run. He turns, to see water burst forth from the doors he has opened.  
In one icy wave it crashes down upon him, throwing him to the ground, holding him there. He struggles in vain.  
The water is stealing his breath and numbing his body.  
   
Suddenly, there is warmth and a voice, filling his lungs with air.

 

My bedroom is adjoining to that of Holmes. It is therefor quite often, that I wake up to Holmes crying out in his nightmares.  
Usually, I do my best not to take notice and will try to get back to sleep, as soon as he has calmed down.  
It is not that I don’t want to help, it’s just that I think help, in whatever form, would be unwelcome. Holmes is such a very private individual.  
This night is different however, because I can hear my name among those cry's and I couldn’t, ever, deny him my help, if he should ask for it.  
Barefoot and in my nightclothes I make my way to his room. I open the door slowly, soundlessly, slip inside and close it behind me.  
Then I turn, trying to make out, were his bed is standing, the little light that makes it through the half drawn curtains, isn’t helping.  
I have never been in here before.  
My eyes prove to be of no use in finding him, but my ears do. I stumble my way through the dark, up to his bedside.  
I note in passing, that his room must be about as untidy as our shared living room.  
To my relief, there seems to be nothing standing or lying about, which could cause me to stumble and fall.  
Than I take in what little of his form I can make out in the semidarkness and every thought about his habitual untidiness vanishes from my mind.  
His whole body is a picture of anxiety.  
I try to wake him, careful at first. I touch him on his shoulder and call his name. He doesn’t seem to notice.  
''Watson? Were are you?'' There is a tone of increasing desperation in his voice. I can feel an answering panic rise in my chest. What to do? Instinctively, I climb into bed beside him, wrapping my arms around him, my body seemingly moving on it’s own.  
I can hear myself mumbling, as if from a distance ''I am here, Holmes. I am here and not going anywhere. I promise! Holmes…''  
Initially he tries to fight me of, wriggling, tossing and turning. After some little time however, he calms down.  
His breathing evens out and he relaxes into my hold. It is then, that I fully realise what I am doing and the consequences my actions might have.  
I try to picture Holmes reaction, if he wakes up and finds me in his bed.  
I should leave, there would be a lot of explaining to do, he’d most probably be furious.  
Yet, I had promised to stay, hadn't I? Even if Holmes wouldn’t remember, I would. I would always remember that I had broken my promise. Furthermore, what if the nightmare would continue, after I left?  
It is decided therefor, I will stay.  
Gently, I ease his sleeping form back down onto the bed. I draw the bedsheets, which he had kicked away in his sleep, over the both of us  
and turn to lie on my left side. I can just about make out his silhouette against the darker background.  
The sharp profile of this beloved men, peaceful now.  
I must have fallen asleep then. When I open my eyes again, Holmes is lying on his right side, facing me. He must have turned in his sleep.  
Something else is different, too…

 

''Watson, what are you doing in my bed?''  
''Hmm!?'' came the startled answer.  
It seemed, as if he hadn’t realised, that I had awoken as I had opened my eyes.  
Now, he all but jumped from my bed and being caught up in my bedsheets, he almost feel, swaying dangerously on his feet.  
He then tried to lose them quite forcibly, which had the result of them wrapping themselves even tighter around him.  
At the same time, he launched into his explanation: ''I tried to wake you, but you didn’t. You just kept on crying my name. So I held you, until you had calmed down. I worried, that if I left, your nightmare would continue and—''  
''—and so you stayed.''  
 ''Yes.'' He mumbled, looking at the ground, finally holding his attempts to extricate himself from the sheets. They were still tightly wrapped round him.  
At least temporarily, the danger of him falling had past.  
I turned to lay on my back, looking at the ceiling above me. ''It’s fine, old fellow.''  
He looked up, then. ''It’s fine. It’s fine… Hm. It is?! Holmes, how—''  
Whoomp! Watson had finally lost his fight against the bedsheets.  
When I was at his side, he lay one the ground, moving helplessly. He looked like a caterpillar.  
''You’re not hurt my dear fellow?'' I knelt down beside him. He huffed angrily.  
It seemed his pride was the only thing that had been injured by his fall. I may have smiled a little.  
''Here, let me help you. No, don’t move.'' I rolled him over, until he was freed from his cocoon. Then I helped him back to his feet.  
''Come now, I’ll help you get back to your own bed.'', I said, holding him by his elbow, like I always do.  
''It’s not yet 6.00 a.m. and you might still get some sleep.'', then, quite without thought, I added ''Unless of course, you want to stay?''

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my story :)  
> I hope you enjoyed!


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